


The Gauntlet: Both of Us

by pickledragon



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: (But its Rick and Morty-style), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Prison Breaks!, Slight Cussing, blink and you'll miss it violence, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 03:32:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11282919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickledragon/pseuds/pickledragon
Summary: "You don't need a Rick, let alone me. I have my own demons to settle, governments to destroy. You're looking for someone I can't be."An alternative escape from the Galactic Federation prison.





	The Gauntlet: Both of Us

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally started between Season 2 and 3, when Rick's fate was still up in the air.

Day 87. Maximum security, Prison #25 of the Galactic Federation, AKA The Gauntlet. Has been here for centuries, will probably be here for centuries more. This place was what the civvies liked to call mercy, but every prisoner and guard in here knew that it was a private corner of hell. 

In the beginning, there was a fully robotic staff, until the Federation realized that they could reward incompetence and disloyalty just as well here than at a professional facility. Besides, someone needed to at least try and keep an eye on the bastards. The sentry death monument stopped after the first ten thousand names (administration gave up about 67 years ago), though twice as many prisoners had died. Riots killed about half, attempted breakouts a fourth, and malnutrition and disease finished the rest off. 

Maximum security was the worst. All of the prisoners were lined up on the walls, for proper restraint and more trouble started there than anywhere else. Instead of being let down for mandatory exercise and feeding, food was presented to them on a pole, and their bodies were left to waste away on their slabs, until they were unfortunate enough to warrant interrogating. 

Guards liked to call this place the "Hall of Fools" but only at home with the missus or rip-roaringly drunk in the Flimflom Tavern. Smart ones kept mum and relished another day without a riot. Life was more precious in The Gauntlet than anywhere else and they all understood that. It was that simple fact that kept them going through the long nights, waiting for the ball to drop, and someone to break.

\-----

Rick jolted awake to the sound of shouts. Clamor was constant in this place, but it was uncommon for the yells to sound like a kid's. Not many children in the multiverse did enough to end up in the on the Federation's bad side. His entire section of the wall had started shifting around to get a better look at the scene. While in other parts of the prison inmates had forged a camaraderie, no one was much of a team player in Maximum Security. Fresh meat was fresh meat, no matter how familar or how young.

Below Rick, the guards dragged in a familiar figure in a battered yellow shirt. "M-Morty?!" He yelps, "What are you doing here?!" The yellow-shirted prisoner turned around and gave him a glare as mean as death (not as mean as this place) and Rick knew this was not his Morty. He dimension-hopped enough to recognize an alternate Morty when he saw one. It still hurt, not that Rick would ever admit it. 

Morty gave the armored sentries the finger while being strapped to the slab, and damned if Rick wasn't inordinately proud of him. As luck, or fate, or a laughing, uncaring multiverse would have it, when Morty was pulled up into the air, it was to be deposited right next to Rick. 

The old man hadn't seen a familiar face here yet, and assumed no-one else survived the wedding. Anyone else even slightly associated with him had gone underground, because if the feds got the Great Rick Sanchez, then everyone else was well and truly screwed. He had no idea how a Morty of all people, even one obviously not his, had ended up here. 

Around Rick, the other slabs started shaking, adding to the overall noisiness of the prison. This happened every time a newbie came in. "Fresh meat! Fresh meat!" they chanted. The bio-alarms on each of the prisoners kept them from doing much more. It kept most of the prisoners from dying prematurely to a life sentence and reduced hazing to well aimed excrement from the top of the wall. 

And here it came. The worst criminals were the highest up, so they would be sure to fall during an escape. It also made sure that the feces that fell only came from those with a marksman's ability. Morty didn't flinch. This one really was different than his. After the show was over, most of the inmates went back to sleep, the go-to time passer. Best to save your strength for the next riot. 

Morty had not yet spoken a word, instead turning up his nose at the rest of the slabs. Rick had almost fallen asleep (stupid) when the Morty finally spoke. "You look like crap." the Morty announced matter-of-factly. 

"I'm not the one covered, Morty." Rick snorted back. 

"Sober too." That shut him up. He didn't like to linger on how long he had been out of an alcoholic stupor. Made everything feel more real and distant. Bet his liver was thanking the Federation. 

"How'd you end up here Morty? Knew you were headed to a cell, just not this soon."

"Classified." the Morty responded. Rick almost laughed (a Morty with a secret to keep?), but thought better of it. He just slumped back down. The Morty glared at him. 

There was a silence. 

"Why are you here, Rick? I know Ricks, and judging by your familiarity with jail cells, you should already be long gone." Morty stated, his face a mask. 

"Can't get better hanging quarters in the galaxy. The shit-droppers could be better though."

The Morty gave him a disappointed expression that still managed to made him look cocky. Morty could always piss Rick off, no matter the dimension. Made him feel nostalgic for his rotten grandkids. Rick must not have been paying attention to his facial expression (never had to in this place) because Morty's eyes opened wide, 

"Oh. That's why. So sentimental." Rick shot a glare at Morty. He didn't like being read like a book, no matter how easy it was. Oh, the look the kid was giving him. Just like a Morty. 

Rick forced a grin. "Ha, even if i were to escape from this hellhole, where would I go?" Rick slumped down in his restraints and the entire wall shook slightly. "My planet is a part of the Galactic Federation now. No place for me anywhere with those government assholes around. My family thinks I abandoned them for shits and grins. Might as well just hang here and enjoy prison." 

The Morty looked at him with disdain. "You and I can still escape." 

"Now there's a we? I barely even know you, and just because you vaguely resemble some neuro-camouflage I know doesn't mean we're all buddy buddy. Which Rick do you belong to, anyway?"

Morty flinched. "No one." he whispered vehemently. 

"Oh, touched a nerve did I? Someone wants to be separate from their Rick. Why even talk to me, then?" 

Morty's eyes narrowed, and his face hardened. "Well, Rick, if you and all your apathy and sentiment want to stay hanging on that wall then be my pleasure. At least I made something out of myself when all you did was turn soft!"

Rick blinked and turned his head slightly to the side. He hoped it hid his face.

Morty continued on. "I thought you were better than that, better than MY RICK!" His words echoed around the room, and as all eyes turned their way, Morty retreated into himself. "I thought there was at least one Rick out there that was Rick enough to stay free and care about the right things and... be a Rick to match my Morty," he hissed. 

"I've been looking for years, to find a Rick worth my time! But you aren't, and I swear, when I escape this crummy excuse for a prison, I am going to kill you, just like the rest of them." 

This Morty had quite a high opnion of himself (and of Ricks), but there was something... small about him. The Morty was rather battered up, and his cool facade fell apart with the lightest prod. Despite his best efforts, Morty was projecting his want for someone, something stable everywhere.

Rick would be lying if the words didn't sting. Truth from the mouth of a fool enough to have confidence in the smartest man in the multiverse. And Rick was a fool too, a position he never wanted to be in. Rick snorted and closed his eyes. No one said a word after that.

\-----

The next day, something changed. The Federation pulled their first prisoner down for questioning in months, and as luck have it, the slab was Morty's. Rick groaned internally as Morty descended. Something about that idiot so alike to his own had dug into his shell of apathy and made him want to punch something. To protect, rather reluctantly.

"Fuckin' morally grey Morties, always ruining my life," Rick ground out between his teeth. He couldn't let the stubborn shit's brain be picked apart by insect guards. Not that he would tell any Morty that. Rick swung back and forth on his slab, maneuvering himself into a position where he could reach the nearest pile of dung from above. The handcuffs chafed at the wrists, but at long last he grabbed ahold and greased the interior with the feces. 

Always an oversight in large prisons, no matter how professional: universally sized prison slabs (coming in either extremely small, large, or incredibly large). A lifetime of malnutrition and alcoholism coupled with a naturally tall build didn't hurt either. 

He hit his hand on the edge of the cuff hard, hopefully breaking a finger or two. Rick saw stars. But, the looser bone structure (hurt like a son of a gun) let his hand slip ever so slightly through the cuff. Where the wires connected with the wall behind his back, Rick peeled off the cords. With one hand, limited motion, and a quick plea shot off to the celling light, Rick took aim. 

Below, the thunk of a particularly solid ball of excrement (shaken from his hair) hit the side of a guard. Morty, still going down (downwards to his fate) looked up. Rick held a straight face and winked, Morty scowled.

Things happened very quickly. One moment, Morty was being re-handcuffed for transportation, the next- wait, where did he get that gun?! Once Morty had finished with the circle of corpses around him, all absent their weaponry, he turned his eyes toward Rick with a sneer. He fired.

\-----

Morty looted one of the guard's bodies and put on their eyepatch. He had always felt more comfortable with one on. It made him feel less like brainwave camouflage, and more like a person.

Morty was beginning to think it might be impossible to ever find what he was looking for (sometimes even Morty didn't know what _he_ was looking for). 

But, some part deep inside him kept breaking anytime he saw even a hint of kindness in a Rick, like a constant excuse for who Morty couldn't be. He tried to cover that part up with blood. 

This Rick hadn't turned out to be the someone he was looking for, but he couldn't quite bring himself to kill him. Really, it got harder with each death of a Rick he wanted to be his.

Even if this incident went south, at Morty could spare a Rick with more kindness in his eyes than usual (being generous).

Behind him, Rick was scrambling down the prison walls with one hand, trying to avoid being grabbed by the prisoners. 

"You know!" he huffed, "You could have let me down electronically!" 

Morty blinked. "I know." On the wall, Rick decided to give up and fell the last few feet. Ripping a strip off of his stiff uniform for a bandage, Rick sauntered over to Morty. Rick recoiled slightly at the sight of Morty in an eyepatch (had they ever met before?) but quickly recovered. In the end, Rick actually looked... comforted, like he was glad to face a demon he knew, rather than one he didn't. 

"You know," he said, "the eyepatch isn't a bad look for you. Screams pretentious asshole." Morty tossed a gun toward his wrapped hand; Rick caught it with a wince. 

"Yeah, yeah, fuck you too." Taking the body of an official looking guard, they bypassed the retinal scan, and left the shaking walls of shit droppers, begging to be released, behind.

\----- 

Once they made it to a decent computer (and had acquired a higher ranking eyeball), Rick dropped the wall restraints (poetic justice be screwed), an easy distraction for the bumbling security.

"Idiot bureaucrats," he muttered, putting the prisoner controls and their rec room in the same place."

Morty, now covered in alien viscera (what was more disorienting was the faint smile) joked back, "Can't have their overpaid guards getting bored." 

Rick laughed maniacally, probably overkill for the weak quip, but damn it, Rick was free, and he was going to laugh as hard as he wanted!

"Let's go find the complaint department and give them our suggestion."

They tore through the prison with deadly efficientcy, but bloodier and more messy than Rick usually would. He preferred gore sure, but with style. This Morty was more of a savage force of nature, reminding Rick of his last Purge (which made sense, considering his previous Rick. He remembered the Rick-Killer and Morty-Torturer well. Sure, he was terrifiied of that Rick (not that he would show it) but his Morty really just needed something better, was looking for something better. It struck a chord in him).

Nonetheless, guards, security, and janitor personnel alike fell on all sides, and Rick and Morty stood at end of a trail of bodies. Rick was breathing hard, bedecked in weapons and covered in blood. He smirked at Morty in a similar state.

"You know what, angst Morty, I take it back. That was some good shit." Morty gave a grin back, the first real one Rick had seen from him. "It was." They were at the door of the prison, probably hundreds more guards outside. Morty nodded his head, and Rick held up an eyeball to the scanner. The doors opened and they began.

\-----

After all was said and done (and all prisoners dead or run off into the distant wasteland, with or without stolen vehicles) and they had taken the entire jail, Rick and Morty set up explosives and blew the place to hell, looking on in approval from the airstrip (fully fueled tanks and a trip to anywhere, after the trackers were removed).

"You know," Morty ventured, "That wasn't half bad." His face looked open, more open than Rick had ever seen, and he knew what was coming next. 

"Do you... want to..." Rick looked the Morty, all contradiction and professionalism and passion (for murder) all wrapped up in a small package. This Morty was going places, but he would have to go without Rick. Rick couldn't be what Morty wanted, and definitely not what he needed. 

He put a hand on Morty's shoulder, "Look, you're a good Morty, Morty, but you're not my Morty." Morty's face fell and Rick scrambled to continue, "You're a different kind of asshole, the kind that can go places, and be terrible and hypocritical and... like me, but also you.

"You don't need a Rick, let alone me. I have my own demons to settle, governments to destroy. You're looking for someone I can't be, that no version of me can be." Morty's eyes narrowed (Rick hoped he hadn't struck a bit too much nerve). "You are a shit, but the best kind. You can be the Rick and the Morty." 

Morty glanced up at Rick with a small smile that was quickly replaced with practiced indifference. Now that the bloodlust was over, there was no need to let loose. "Yeah," Morty said, "I can give those Federation bastards a run for their money." 

Rick gave a half smile back. "You can do anything you want, you son of a bitch." Morty nodded, and looked for a second like he was going to say something more, then abruptly turned and walked over to his ship. Rick could almost swear his eyes were shining.

**Author's Note:**

> This was made at the request of a friend (by the way, I take requests) for a fic that included the words: "You're a good Morty, Morty, but you're not my Morty." Please leave a comment and tell me what you liked/didn't like!
> 
> More nerdy stuff at my blog: pickledragonblog.weebly.com


End file.
